Happy New Year!

I'm a bit late to post this chapter, but I hadn't taken into account the fact that I wouldn't be able to write/edit/post the chapter while family was around so here we are now ;D

Krummbein

The sudden cry of pain woke her, and Hermione immediately switched her bedside lamp on. Her fingers slippery with sweat, she tried to fight the terror that seized her as she studied the room, feeling her heart stop for a second when she finally caught sight of the dark shape at the bottom of her bed. Her parents had left for the week, and a stranger had just broken into her bedroom. As she tried to think of something that would help her defend herself, the stranger – a man – shifted slightly and caught her blanket, making her jump in surprise and move as far as possible from him.

Crookshanks, who had been sleeping soundly, meowed loudly to express his annoyance before turning his head in direction of the hand that was still gripping the edge of the blanket. He stilled, looking puzzled, before getting up and coming closer to the stranger. For a moment, Hermione thought that he would attack him, as he usually did with anyone but her and her parents, but he merely rubbed his head against the hand and began to purr loudly. Then, he turned his head back to her and meowed angrily, as if she had done something to displease him. Surprised, Hermione tilted her head above the bed and screamed when she saw the stranger's body.

It was as if he had been used as a sharpening tool. Every inch of his body seemed to be covered with long, thin cuts, and she could see blood trailing down from the wounds. Some of it has splashed his hair and begun coagulating there and Hermione gasped in horror, wondering who had done that to him and why. The stranger, who had been breathing painfully until then, stilled at the sound and raised his head slowly until their gaze finally met. His grey eyes seemed to peer into her soul, and Hermione's throat went dry when she finally recognized him.

"DRACO?"

She had not been able to move him to her bed and had resigned herself to put a small pillow under his head. He had passed out shortly after she had moved next to him, and it had taken everything Hermione had in her not to call for help. She did not know what had happened to him but one thing was sure: if he had gone to her instead of calling for an ambulance, something bad had happened to him, bad enough that he'd rather die than get help from a public service.

Crookshanks, who always seemed to know what she needed, had glared at her until she followed him to the bathroom where she had remembered the first aid kit was stored. Hermione had taken it back to her bedroom and begun searching its content, silently thanking her mother for always being well-prepared. Then, she had opened the guide that came with it and followed the instructions that seemed the most relevant given the situation.

The first thing she had done had been to carefully cut and remove Draco's shirt to evaluate the extent of his injuries, and she had almost regretted her decision when she had seen the state of his torso. It had taken her a full minute to override the sudden wave of nausea that took her at the sight, but then she had snapped back into action and, trying to remain impassive, had begun to catalogue the different wounds covering his body.

Ten minutes later, she sighed in relief. Unless she was clearly mistaken, none of his injuries seemed life threatening, and she would be able to heal most of them. There were one or two deep cuts that would need a few stitches, and at least one of his ribs was broken, but she was confident that whatever she did would help until she was able to convince him to see a doctor. As for the missing fingernails, well… they would grow back eventually.

What she did not like, however, were the other wounds she could see, or rather the scars that were the results of them. Several pale lines were covering his entire body and he had a large, purple lump running from his shoulder to his navel. She had never seen him without a shirt before, but she knew for sure that none of those marks had been there the summer before. She could still remember their last encounter, and the tension she had felt emanated from him every time they met. Had his father's past finally caught up with him? Had he been forced to join his friends? Or had someone discovered his true feelings and decided to punish him for wanting to leave?

Sighing, Hermione reached for the bowl of hot water she had prepared and began cleaning the wounds on his face, making sure that the dirt that had mixed with the blood was removed before gently dabbing his skin to dry it and applying bandages when they were needed. It wasn't long before she was done, and she left him under Crookshanks' watchful gaze to fetch some more water. When she came back, his eyes were opened, and he was staring as if she was a ghost.

When he came back to his senses, Draco immediately knew that something was wrong. The near lack of pain was his first clue, quickly followed by the fact that he did not recognize the place where he was and couldn't remember how he had ended up here. There was something familiar about this room, however, and he was trying to get his thoughts in order when a sound coming from his right made him turn his head and he came face to face with the girl he thought he would never see again.

Fuck.

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, and Hermione finally found the courage to ask what she had wanted to know for months.

"Why?" she said, her voice quivering just a little. It could mean anything and everything, she knew, but there was no doubt in his voice when he answered.

"It was safer this way," he whispered, and she was surprised by how old, how tired he sounded. "They would have killed you if they knew about you."

Hermione blinked, stunned by his unexpected declaration.

"Killed me?" she repeated, "Who? Why?"

"It's… complicated."

"Draco," Hermione began, massaging the bridge of her nose in order to stay calm. "You appear out of nowhere after months without answering my letters, looking half-starved and half-dead; you tell me that my life is in danger and the only explanation you have for me is that 'it's complicated'?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth," he said. "Why bother?"

"Try me," she challenged, annoyed by his tone. "It can't be worse than what I already imagined."

He had the audacity to smirk, and Hermione wondered why she had even bothered asking when it was obvious he wasn't taking her seriously.

"I'm a wizard," he said, and something stirred inside of her at his declaration.

"Draco," she cut him before he could say anything else. "I don't have time for that bullshit. If you don't want to tell me what really happened, fine, then let's just call an ambulance to take you to the hospital."

"I'm telling the truth," he told her, his tone suddenly deadly serious. "And I don't need an ambulance, I'll be fine in a minute."

"Draco,", Hermione groaned, a headache threatening to appear. "I don't think you understand the seriousness of your injuries, you really need to…"

"Popsy," he called, his voice loud and clear, "I need you right now!"

"Pops… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Hermione should have known that she was dreaming when she had found Draco in her bedroom, but the sight of the small creature that had just appeared in front of her made her realize that it was, instead, a nightmare. She had never seen anything like it and, frozen with horror, she took in its small spindly arms and legs, its bat-like ears, and its oversized head. The creature stared back, its huge, judgmental eyes analysing her for a few seconds before turning towards Draco.

"The Master called," the creature asked in a high-pitched voice, and Hermione's lips parted in surprise when she realized that it could speak.

"Popsy, I need you to go back to my room to fetch my potions," Draco asked, apparently unaware of the fact that Hermione was seeing her world being turned upside down.

"And healing balms, Master?" the creature inquired, observing his torso with a critical eye.

"You're right," he agreed, "I'll need them as well". The creature bowed before disappearing from the room and Hermione stared, completely stunned, at the spot where it had been only a second before.

"What the Hell was that?" she asked abruptly. "And how did it appear in my bedroom?"

"It's a house-elf," Draco answered, completely unfazed by Hermione's state of near-hysteria. "And a damn good one if you want my opinion. As for your second question, we both apparated here. It's a means of transportation that wizards and witches use," he explained when he saw the puzzled look on her face. "The fastest we have, as a matter of fact, but not the most pleasant one. I prefer brooms," he added with a smile, "but it was easier to leave that way given the state I was in. Not that I thought I would end up here, of course, but I wasn't thinking clearly at the time."

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of his speech, and a few more minutes passed before Hermione was finally able to speak again.

"I wasn't hallucinating, was I?" she asked Draco, and he shook his head slightly. "And you weren't lying?" He shook his head again, a small smile on his lips.

"There really is a Magical World."

"Yes."

"You really are a wizard."

"Correct."

"And you're in trouble."

"That's an understatement."

Hermione stared at him blankly, trying to process what she had just heard. She had to think rationally, but it was becoming harder and harder, especially when the creature popped back unexpectedly and handed Draco a small package before disappearing again. She watched as he drank potions after potions, watched as he applied several balms on his skin and watched as the cuts began to close before fading to a pearl-white colour. Finally, she exhaled shakily before raising her head until their eyes met once again.

"Tell me everything."

For a second, Draco had thought that she would not believe him, so he couldn't help the pleased smile that appeared on his face when he heard her request. His body was still a bit sore but all of his wounds seemed to have healed, and he stood up carefully before sitting beside her on the floor.

"The first thing you need to know is that there is a war going on as we speak. It began before I was born and, while there was a decade of relative peace after the leader of the opposition suddenly disappeared, it was never completely over and started again a few years ago. There are two sides: the 'good guys', who think that our world is too prejudiced and would like the same rights for everyone, and the 'bad guys', who believe the Old Ways are there for a reason and refuse any change that might endanger their privileges."

"I suppose you're part of the bad guys," Hermione couldn't help but say, and Draco nodded distractedly. She had a sharp mind, he knew, and he had told her enough of his life for her to come to this conclusion.

"My family was, and is still, heavily involved in the conflict. I was born at the height of the war, when things were looking good for my side. Our leader was powerful, our ranks ever-growing and the opposition had been reduced to a handful of rebels who struggled to survive. Everyone thought, everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before my side won. Then, one night, something happened: the Dark Lord – my family's leader – was killed by a child, a baby no older than a year old."

He paused for a few seconds, enough to give Hermione the chance to comment or ask something, but she remained silent and Draco resumed his story.

"At first, the Dark Lord's followers thought he was just hiding and went in search of him. But weeks passed without any trace from him and they had to face the truth: their Master was dead, and they needed to make sure that their former loyalty would not affect them. Most of them had been cautious and had made sure that they would not be arrested and in the end, less than two dozen of them were judged and convicted."

"I suppose your family managed to escape?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Draco admitted. "The Malfoys have always been influential in our world, and it wasn't difficult for my father to make everyone believe that he had been forced to follow the Dark Lord. Within a few years, most of his followers were able to regain their status in the society and to secure influential jobs within the Ministry so that they would be able to influence the government. The country was destroyed and the Ministry needed money to rebuild, and the few people who knew about the bribery turned a blind eye for the right price."

"'They've continued bribing the entire system even after their boss was sent away'," Hermione interrupted, and Draco was astounded when he realized that she was remembering something he had told her two years ago. "You've been editing the truth for years, haven't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, and a pained look crossed her face before she turned her head away from him.

"Why not tell me the truth?" she inquired, and he could tell that she was hurt. "Maybe not at the beginning, but we've been friends for years and you had the opportunity to come clean several times before today. Who knows, maybe I could have helped you with whatever happened to you this year."

"I couldn't take the risk," he answered honestly. "Muggles – people who are not from my world – aren't supposed to know that we exist, but that wasn't the main problem. I didn't want you to know about the conflict, and the fact that I may have to take part in it, because you would have tried to stop me."

"So, what, you thought it was a better idea to stay with your family and be repeatedly tortured rather than telling me the truth and asking for my help to leave your world for safety?" she asked a bit angrily.

"Again," he said, "it's not that simple. I'm the Heir of a noble family and, before my seventeenth birthday, my parents have means to track me in case something happens to me. If I had done that, they would have found me within the hour and killed you and anyone who had seen me."

"Of course, your family isn't above murder," Hermione said with barely concealed sarcasm. "How could I believe otherwise given the state you are in right now?"

"The fact that you are a Muggle and my friend would likely have made things worse," Draco confessed, somehow embarrassed. "They would have tortured you for hours before killing you, maybe even taken days to do so."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out of it, and she shook her head in disbelief for a second before regaining her composure.

"Alright, I suppose you will also have an explanation for that, but now is not the time. Clearly, something happened to you last summer, something that had to do with your father being arrested and that led to you being here tonight. What was it?"

Draco suppressed a grin, amused by her bluntness. Had the Hat ever crossed her path, he was sure it would have sent her to Gryffindor.

"You'll need a little more background before I come to that. As I said before, the war started again a few years ago. To be more specific, the war started again once the Dark Lord was brought back to life by one of his followers. This time, however, he decided to maximize his odds of winning and concluded that he would need to kill the Leader of the opposition to do so. This," Draco said, suddenly feeling a bit nervous, "is where I come in. I told you last year that my father had gone to prison, but never explained why. Truth is, he was given an important mission by the Dark Lord and failed. Worse, he exposed our side and forced the Dark Lord to change his plans, something he did not appreciate at all. As a punishment, he decided that I would be the one sent to kill the other leader. He made sure that I had the appropriate training before I was sent away and gave me until the end of the school year to succeed."

"But you didn't," Hermione cut him before he could say anything else and, when she saw his surprised look, she went on. "You said you had until the end of the school year, so the date is near or has already passed. And since you've almost been beaten to death, I think it's clear that you tried and failed to kill your target."

"Almost correct," he replied, "but not quite. I did fail to kill the man I was sent after, but I wouldn't be alive today if he hadn't died anyway. Someone else did the job for me when it was clear that I couldn't do it, and that's why I was punished. After the Dark Lord was done with me, I tried to apparate back to my rooms – what I usually do since no one is supposed to help me with my wounds – but I must have been too far gone to do it properly since I ended up here."

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them once again, a look of determination on her face.

"Your birthday is on June the 5th, so you're seventeen now," she observed, waiting for his confirmation before she continued. "You implied that your parents could track you until you reached your seventeenth birthday, so it means that you can leave them for good, right? Right?" she asked again, and he could tell by the sound of her voice that she had understood he could not.

"Before he told me about my mission, the Dark Lord marked me like he marked the rest of his followers," Draco explained. "It means that he has a way to find me if I try to hide from him. It's not as effective as the link I shared with my parents, but he would be able to track me in less than a week if I did nothing but try to flee the country. In any case, I wouldn't be able to stay away from him more than a few months, and only if I had access to a myriad of spells that are way above the level of Magic I can't perform right now."

For the first time since he had arrived, Hermione looked utterly depressed.

"And there is no way to sever that link? I mean you have Magic, Draco, surely it is not impossible to find a way around this!"

Draco bit his lip before answering.

"There is one way, actually, but it hasn't been tested yet. Dumbledore – the man I was supposed to kill – was working on it with one of his allies, a spy who is also marked. He… told me about it," he said, his voice quivering a little. "When I was up there, with him at my wand point. He must have known that I did not mean him any arm, and he said that he would be able to hide me and to help me get rid of it if I accepted his help. I wanted to say yes, I really wanted it but the others came in and…" he paused for a second, hoping that Hermione would not see the beginning of tears forming in his eyes before continuing with renewed confidence. "But it's not too late. I know who the spy is, now, and I know that he will accept to help me if I ask, which is why I must go back to the Manor. It's the only place where I will be able to contact him."

"And after that, you'll come back?" Hermione asked quietly, and Draco was surprised by the sudden change in her voice. He was also surprised to realize that she had moved at some point during his story and was now sitting much closer than before, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. He gulped audibly, and his eyes were suddenly drawn to her lips.

"I will," he promised, and Hermione turned her face to look at him. Her cheeks were bright pink and she looked almost embarrassed, and Draco's breath caught in his chest at the sight. There was something between them that hadn't been there a few minutes before, and Draco resisted the inexplicable urge to drag her into his arms.

"Good," she said, and she leaned in, closing the gap between the two of them.

A few hours later, when they had finally found the courage to leave the comfort of her bed, a burst of white light exploded in the room, and a doe-shaped form that Draco recognized as a Patronus appeared in front of them. He had never seen this Patronus before, and he was more than surprised when the furious voice of Severus Snape came out of it.

"You idiotic boy!" it shouted. "Next time you decide to sleep with a Muggle girl, make sure that she isn't a Muggleborn who never went to Hogwarts! I don't know who this Hermione Granger is and how you met her, but the both of you are now married and your father knows about it so, for the love of Merlin, take her and her parents you know where before Lucius remembers about the Book of Admittance and comes after them!"

If there's one thing that I've discovered over the years, it's that I'm bad at writing anything remotely romantic. I swear I try but I'm never satisfied with the result. Hopefully one day I'll find the secret ingredient for romantic scenes but I don't think it will be soon.

As you may have realized, this fic ends up at a turning point for the story. I wanted to continue a bit but it did not feel right so I decided to stop it here. Don't despair, I'm 80% positive that I'll be able to write AND post the second part of the series before mid-February!

Until then :D Love, Krummbein